With the Lions
by ChasetheWindTouchtheSky
Summary: Post-Israel. Everyone's trying to move on, but when a mysterious package and a peculiar murder is given to NCIS, will the team have to ask for help from the one person who doesn't want to give it? Tiva, McAbby, and lots of family.
1. Whispers from Ghosts

**Hello! I hope you all are doing well. So… this is my first story (pleads to be nice!). Like many people, I'm so bummed over Cote's departure, so this was an idea I got to incorporate all the members of the team and bring them back together. This will most definitely stray into AU territory, particularly because I haven't had time to keep up with it. But this story takes place after Ziva is left in Israel.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 1

_Whispers from a Ghost_

Today was the same as any other day.

That was the problem, wasn't it? It was the same as every other day and every other day was difficult to make it through. Because when he woke up, when he brought himself out of the consciousness of sleep, Tony had to remind himself that nothing had changed. Everything was just as it was the day before. If that didn't encourage someone to start drinking in the morning, he wasn't sure what would.

Instead of alcohol, he ran his fingers across the cardboard of his coffee cup, eyeing the barista behind that counter. Petite, blonde, pretty smile. The old Tony wouldn't have hesitated approaching her, putting on the Dinozzo charm until he left the coffee house with her number. But the idea of getting out of his seat and talking to her was painful.

It shouldn't be, though. It was _her_ decision to stay. There was literally nothing he could've done to change that, but it didn't explain why he felt like he did something wrong. Well, he felt that way because everything was wrong and no matter what, he had a hand in it. That he couldn't forget.

Tony blinks. He'd been staring at the blonde the entire time and now she was giving him a gaze that said quite clearly that he wouldn't have to try very hard to get her number. His first impulse was to leave, but if he left at this exact moment, he would be on time for work. If he was on time for work, this day would continue to be the same as every day. He had a few minutes.

He would endure the wrath of Leroy Gethro Gibbs if it meant this day was different than every other day.

**XXX**

"Where's Dinozzo?"

McGee looks up from his desk, barely aware that Tony hadn't arrived yet. "Uh," He makes some noises to fill the awkward silence that Gibbs settled onto the bullpen, hoping that Tony would appear in the elevator as he stalled. "He must've – I mean he definitely – maybe had alarm trouble?"

Gibbs sets his coffee on his desk, but doesn't sit down. Instead, he slowly paces until he reaches McGee's desk, a smirk plastered on his face. Placing his hands on the desk and bending over, Gibbs says, "You've never been good at lying McGee."

McGee gulps. "No, boss, I haven't."

Gibbs leans closer. "Wanna tell me why you're lying about Dinozzo so early on a Monday morning?"

"Uh—"

"Sorry, McSquirmy, thanks for trying to take the fall for me." Tony says, placing his bag by his desk. "But I got it from here. I was late for a few reasons. 5'4", I'd say about a C-cup, wearing—" Gibbs' hand connects with the back of Tony's head. "Sorry boss."

"Glad you are returning to your old self, Tony." McGee grumbles, turning back to his computer.

Tony grunts, but doesn't continue. He could've been naming anyone. He didn't want just anyone anymore. He groans, earning a questioning glance from Gibbs, which he tries to ignore. Tony couldn't help it. The greats would be rolling in their grave with that cliché. 'Just anyone'? Who did he think he was, Gary Marshall?

"Got a dead Marine about twenty miles out." Gibbs snaps, slamming his phone on the receiver.

Tony stands up, preparing himself for the key-toss he expects, but Gibbs hesitates. With the slightest flick of the glaze, Gibbs looks from the keys to Tony. Tossing them to McGee, Gibbs says, "Arrive on time and then we'll talk."

**XXX**

"This is very peculiar."

Tony stares at Ducky. "Peculiar? For someone as verbose as you, I would think that you would choose a more fitting describing word."

Ducky peers up from his crouch. "Oh, I'm sorry Anthony. Would you like to choose the particular verbiage I use to describe the victims I examine?"

"How about creepy, unsettling, or just plain weird?"

"'Just plain weird', Anthony? That is what you used to replace my 'peculiar'? How dearly disappointed I am with the American education system." Ducky comments, returning to the dead body.

From across the room, you could barely understand what's going on, which is why it took the maid twenty minutes to realize she'd been cleaning the room with a dead body in it. Tony scowls as he watches McGee brush some of the salt in a bag.

"Don't take too much of that McGee. You'll leave King Tut here to rehydrate."

Placed carefully in a bathtub, the body sat in pounds of salt, severely dehydrating the skin. No matter how many dead bodies he's seen, Tony never enjoyed this part. There are so many ways to kill a person, and yet somehow people keep inventing new ones. Tony crouches and snaps a few photos, surveying the room. "New question for the day," Tony muses. "How does one sneak into an apartment with what I can only assume is a twenty pound bag of salt, without anyone noticing?"

Gibbs tightens his lips. "Got an answer for that question, Dinozzo."

Tony takes a few more pictures. Without thinking, he mutters, "Obviously I don't have the answer, otherwise I never would've asked it in the first place."

He hears McGee drop something on the floor. Even Ducky stops puttering around.

"Oh, boss," Tony breathes, his eyes widening. "I-I don't know where that came from, I was just existentially musing—"

"Do you have something you'd like to say to me, Dinozzo?" Gibbs asks, his voice lowering.

"No!" Tony snaps. "Of course not, boss. Obviously if I was going to say something, if I wanted to say something, it would be a something that sounded something like—"

"Shut up, Dinozzo."

"Yes boss."

But when he moved to leave, he felt Gibbs' grip on his bicep, leading him through the house.

When they reached outside, Gibbs turns to Tony. "Do we have a problem still, Dinozzo?"

Tony tried to laugh as carelessly as possible. "Problem? With me? Obviously not, boss. I am a solid rock. If I was a rock, I'd be… well, I'd be one of those that I don't know the name of, but I'm pretty sure that McGeek would."

Gibbs gives Tony a sharp look.

"Boss, seriously. I'm sleeping, I'm watching movies again, I'm dating…" Tony winces. "Well, that dating thing isn't true. Neither is the movies. Neither is the sleeping."

"Dinozzo…"

"I know, I know. 0/3 is not a good record."

"Dinozzo, are we going to have a problem?"

Tony doesn't answer right away this time. He actually wonders this question all the time. "I don't think so boss. It'll get better, right?"

Gibbs stares at Tony. As soft as Gibbs can get, he asks, "Do you want it to?"

**XXX**

"I will eat one of you if I'm not allowed on my lunch starting now." Tony grumbles, throwing his bag at the side of his desk.

"Considering it's after five, it's dinner now." McGee says, although there's an edge in his voice that usually isn't present. Listening to Tony complain about food didn't help him take his mind off of his own hunger.

"What happened? We used to have food in the back of the car all the time and lately it's been very absent." Tony groans. "Who do I have to do around here to get that to be restocked."

"Ziva."

Tony stands upright at the mention of her name, particularly keen to it when it comes from Gibbs. Gibbs slams a sandwich on Tony's desk, moving to his own. "Ziva was the one who put the food in the back of the car." Gibbs says, not maintaining eye contact with Tony or McGee. "She went to Costco on the weekends and filled it up every Monday."

Tony sits at his desk, unable to formulate a response. Instead he turned his attention to something on his desk.

"What do you got there, Dinozzo?"

"A package." He mutters, not lifting it from his desk.

"Need I remind you what happen last time you opened a mysterious package."

Tony pokes it. "Not an anecdote I'd easily forget."

Gibbs and McGee come over, peering at the package. "What language is this?" McGee asks, pointing at the base.

Tony spins it around and freezes.

Today will not be like every other day.

When he doesn't answer, Gibbs closes his eyes. "Hebrew, McGee. That is Hebrew." He looks at Tony, afraid of the expression he'll see. "This package is from Israel."

**Author's Note: What do you think? I'd love to hear your thoughts! **


	2. She Owes Me One

**Wow, you guys are so great! I really appreciate all your thoughts.**

**Quick answer: This is recent-Ziva staying in Israel after Bodnar, not Rivkin. I can understand why that's confusing, but hopefully the writing will be clearer as well! Onward, march!**

Chapter 2

_She Owes Me One_

"How long has he been staring at the elevator?"

McGee breaks his gaze for the first time to double take at Abby, who's eyeing Tony with nothing short of pity. McGee fights the urge to tell her to stop – no man wants a woman to look at them like that. The only thing preventing him from doing so is that he knows he wouldn't get very far asking her to do so. McGee sighs. "As long as they've been gone, so I'd say a good," McGee looks at his watch. "Twenty-two minutes."

"Poor Tony," Abby whimpers, sighing as his rigid pose doesn't falter. "I can't imagine what he's feeling."

"If he'd just talk to someone about it," McGee murmurs, unable to prevent the frustration rising in his throat. "Then he might be able to realize that there are other people who are struggling with it too and need someone to talk to."

Abby's taken aback, her hands faltering from his shoulders for a moment. "McGee, are you okay?"

"I'm just saying," McGee snaps, gesturing at Tony. "The entire team lost someone. It would make sense that there would be other people on the entire team that haven't been able to get the closure from her leaving and maybe if those members of the team could talk to one another, it'd be easier."

Abby asks in a small voice, "Have to you talked about it with Delilah?"

McGee looks down. "She didn't know her."

She bites her lip. "You could always, you know, talk to me. If you want."

McGee doesn't answer.

Abby tries not to let the hurt go into her voice, so she turns her attention back to Tony. "So, they're positive it's from Israel."

"Yeah, the postmark and everything. There's even a note in Hebrew at the bottom." McGee mutters. "But after what happened when Tony contracted the plague, they're hesitant to let him open it without a thorough examination. It makes sense, but I'm not sure Tony sees it that way."

Abby frowns. "Is he even blinking?"

"Hasn't blinked in over ten minutes."

"His eyes must really hurt."

"This is a guy who watches three movies on a light day. He has literally been training his whole life for this moment."

The elevator doors open and Tony startles in his desk a bit, shaking it enough so his Mighty Mouse stapler topples to the floor. "Don't worry," McGee sighs. "This has already happened six times."

Except this time, they didn't walk into another part of the bullpen. These men were carrying the box in question, Tony leaping up from his seat when he catches sight of them. McGee straightens earnestly, his own curiosity getting the better of him. The flaps of the box were open, its contents obviously mangled and sifted through. All privacy gone.

Tony doesn't hide his frustration well when they set the box down, his jaw twitching as he peeks inside. "Oh good," he snaps. "I hate it when I have to go through the trouble of ripping open my own packages and destroying their contents. Thanks for the help, gentlemen."

They don't respond to Tony, but turn instead to Gibbs, who's peering from his desk. McGee wonders if he wasn't to get up and see himself; he seems antsy but very firm in his chair. "Anything we should know about?" Gibbs asks.

"Nothing suspicious. Just a DVD and a note. The DVD is harmless." One of them states. "Seems like a sentimental package, if you ask me."

McGee notices a slight widening of Tony's eyes at the word 'sentimental'. McGee's not sure which he prefers. If it is from Ziva, all of Tony's progress may leave, like it never happened in the first place. He stares at his computer for lack of a better thing to do, trying hard not to let the bitter resentment rise into his chest.

It's not like he was _mad _Ziva. Well, actually it was like he was mad at Ziva. Not even a goodbye. He always knew that Tony and Ziva were close – probably closer than Rule #12 would usually allow – but she was like his sister. He considered her family. Family doesn't leave without saying goodbye.

Wasn't he worth a simple goodbye?

McGee clenches his fist. He didn't want to feel that way. The problem is, he did. He wasn't sure how to change that. Not one could fault Ziva for wanting to leave the trails of blood that her life held, behind.

But no goodbye?

"Did you look at the video?" Gibbs asks when Tony doesn't respond in any way, but stares at the note. He sits down, his eyes furrowing in a way that McGee could only guess was anger. That was an emotion he didn't understand.

"Yeah," one of the guards says, rubbing the back of his neck. "But there was really only a short video. No viruses, no problems. I'd say pop that sucker in and give it a look."

Tony still hasn't answered. The letter's now shaking in his hands. "Dinozzo, everything alright over there?" Gibbs asks when the rattling of the paper gets worse.

"It's not from Ziva." Tony says, slamming the paper on the table. "It's from Adam."

**XXX**

"What the hell are you doing here?" Gibbs snaps, closing Vance's door behind him.

Fornell fakes hurt. "You say it like you aren't happy to see me. Now what am I going to do with this extra cup of coffee?"

Gibbs rolls his eyes as takes the cup out of Fornell's grasp. "Don't tell me you've come here to poach one of my cases. Because if you do, I might have to shoot you in the face instead of the ass."

Vance chuckles from behind his desk, Fornell scooting his chair a little bit away from Gibbs. "Not poach, but share." Vance hands Gibbs a thick file, waiting a few minutes for him to thumb through it. "Turn you're not the first person to get a human soaked in salt."

Fornell clears his throat. "We've had at least four other cases with the same crime scene: 20-24 years old, college educated, doused in salt. Each one with their throat meticulously slashed with no blood in the salt. It's just unfortunate luck that the recent murder was a Marine. Means I had to drag my ass all the way to this building."

"You could use the exercise." Gibbs mutters, frowning at the sight of young adults, cold on an autopsy table. He'll never get used to that. Then again, he's not sure he wants to.

"Our latest problem is that all four of the victims have been linked in one very specific way." Fornell says, wincing.

"How is that a problem?" Gibbs states, throwing his old friend a perplexed look. "Call me old fashioned, but usually I take that as a good sign."

Fornell sighs. "Over the past year, each and every one has contacted Mossad operatives in one way or another. Whether it be in importing business in the case of Felicia Hart or international relations in the case of your Marine, each one has contacted Israel for business."

Gibbs stiffens. "I don't like where you're going with this."

"Yeah," Fornell groans. "I knew you were gonna say that. And if you got mad at this part, I can only imagine how you'll feel after—"

"I think I can take it from here." Vance states, standing up from his desk. Fornell is visibly relieved, rushing out of Vance's office within a few seconds.

"Definitely not going to like this." Gibbs mutters, the door slamming in an ominous way in which he wishes he could pause time.

Vance grips the side of his desk, starting a sentence several times before choosing one. "After the fiasco with Bodnar, my trust in Mossad operation is limited."

"Good, now I won't have to call you a dumbass."

"However, we need someone who has extensive knowledge of Mossad workings and perhaps even the people inside."

Gibbs ices over. This is exactly where he thought the conversation was headed, but it doesn't mean that he felt any more prepared. "Vance, I'm gonna stop you right there—"

"No, I'm gonna stop _you_ right there, Gibbs. There is a serial killer on the loose. Fornell isn't any closer to figuring out what the hell is going on than you are and I have a feeling it will stay that way unless we figure something out."

"Then find someone in Mossad that you can trust. Don't go where you're going." Gibbs warns.

"People are dying, Gibbs!" Vance shouts. "This is not a time for proper social conduct, this is a time for action!"

"She doesn't want to be here!" Gibbs bellows, slamming his hands on Vance's desk. "She made a choice! She wanted to leave! It is our job as her family to respect that!"

"No!" Vance shouts. "My entire family was ripped apart and she can't just leave!"

Gibbs takes a step back. "Leon—"

"Don't use that tone with me, Gibbs." Vance says. "She told me if there was ever anything she could do for me, all I had to do is call."

Gibbs tries to control his anger, but it's bubbling up to the surface. Ziva returning would be… disastrous. To everyone involved. "Don't make that call, Leon. We'll find another way."

Vance straightens up, the intense anger from a second ago evaporated. "Too late, Gibbs. It's already been made. She arrives in two days."

**XXX**

"Talk to me, McGee." Gibbs says, trying to ebb the rage filtering through his body. He knows he'll have to tell his team, but he can't bring himself to do it. Not right now. "What do we got?"

"Well, the most pressing thing we've got is a mysterious DVD from Adam in Israel and Tony having an embolism. Now you're pretty much caught up."

Gibbs looks at Tony, who hasn't moved since he was called into Vance's office. "Do you need a moment, Tony? Do you want to watch it by yourself?"

"No." He answers almost instantly. He looks at Gibbs as if he just realized he hadn't moved in several minutes. "Here. Whatever's on the tape, I want to do it here."

Gibbs moves to grab the DVD from him without question. He pauses. "I'm not gonna see anything on here I don't want to see, am I?"

"Boss!" Tony exclaims. "All I got was this, I don't know what's on there."

Gibbs looks down at the scratchy note:

_Thought you'd appreciate knowing._

_-Adam_

Gibbs looks up to see a small audience gather. He wanted to tell everyone to leave, but when he saw the eager faces of Ducky, Abby, Palmer, and McGee – all of whom weren't privy to any sort of goodbye, the words get caught in his throat. Shoving the DVD into his computer, he brings it up on the bigger screen.

Tony slouches in his seat, wincing.

"_This is StrongLife: Animal Reserve with our latest update!"_

A cheerful voice calls from the screen, vast plains sweeping across the area. A logo flashes, followed by tribal music, people cheering and laughing in the background.

"_We've got big news – we've official selected our newest researcher/caretaker in our family. Everyone, please prepare yourself to get to know our very special friend, Ziva David!"_

The room is still, the only noise from the steady drums in the video. Gibbs isn't sure if he wants to focus on his team or the screen. A part of him wants to see it, though. He needs to see her. He needs to know it was the right choice. That she actually is better.

Then, he sees her.

All his doubts dissipate.

Running closer to the camera is Ziva, a carefree smile on her face. She laughs and twirls around, her movements not jagged and attacker-like from before, but graceful. She waves to the camera, her smile stretching across her face wider than he'd ever seen it.

"_Do the thing!"_ the narrator calls as Ziva runs to a gate. _"Do the thing, do the thing!"_

Ziva shakes her head and opens the gate. As soon as she does, a chorus of howls start. The camera man giggles as he follows Ziva in, a flood of small animals rushing after her. It takes Gibbs a moment to realize they're lion cubs. They're so enraptured with her. They patter after her, howling until she sits down and then they scramble onto her lap, nudging each other off. Ziva laughs as they do so, scratching their ears. _"I thought you said they mature quicker than humans! They are just as silly as before."_ Ziva laughs.

Gibbs doesn't know what to do. Watching Ziva laugh as she's surrounded by lion cubs may be the most painful thing he's witnessed. Because he knows that right now, instead of continuing this new venture, she's packing for DC.

"_Ziva, while with no zoology background, is taking advantage of our training program. So far she's been a strong candidate and let's face it – the animals love her!"_

Flashes of Ziva with other wild animals. It's almost poetic, watching her. It fits. It's like they understand her and gravitate toward that grief she holds.

The scene cuts to Ziva's living quarters and Gibbs is the closest to panicking that he's reached. The camera sweeps across the tiny tent, but he sees it perfectly. Which means he's not the only one. The desk is simple, besides a computer that would make McGee cry and a picture frame.

Gibbs remembers that day clearly. Tony and Ziva had gone undercover as dating again – he hated it because it felt like they were pushing them together, but what could he do? They were incredibly convincing. McGee printed out a screenshot of the video feed that looked like it belonged in a catalog. The perfect moment: Ziva's hand resting on Tony's chest while he wrapped his arm around her, giving her an affectionate kiss in her hair. They really did look like a couple.

Maybe they were.

Gibbs could never tell, but didn't necessarily want to.

"_Tell us why you came to our program, Ziva."_

Ziva's smile falters. _"There is something about working with animals that is very freeing. They have no sense of past, only present. Happiness is so simple to them,"_ She looks down and Gibbs knows she's controlling her emotions. He's seen it countless times. _"Isn't that what anyone wants?"_

Gibbs has to tear his gaze away.

They're dragging her away from the carefree lions and into the lion's den.

**A/N: Thank you again for all your support! If you have an opportunity, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Hopefully this trajectory makes more sense than the first chapter. Let me know what you think!**


	3. You Say Goodbye, I'll Say Hello

**Hi guys! You're comments have been so wonderful and I really appreciate all the thoughts you've given. Every comment is really appreciated. I just wanted to take a small moment to address two things that I think need clarifying after awesome people pointed them out:**

**Vance is DEFINITELY pulling a personal favor. He has no jurisdiction over where or what Ziva does, but I always thought the two of them are connected in a really sad way in that, if he asks, she will do whatever he needs.**

**Perhaps I didn't write it clear enough (something to work on – great note!), but Gibbs isn't angry at Ziva. He's more… weary. Because as much as he loves/wants Ziva back, he knows that Vance dragging her out of her self-healing, it's an ephemeral experience. She's there to help until it's done and then leave again. So Gibbs is concerned on what it's going to do to Ziva to get dragged back in, and what it's going to do with his team to only have her present for such a small amount of time. As much as he wants her here, a part of him knows no one will be happy when she is, so he's concerned.**

**I think that's it! Seriously – you guys are total rockstars. I hope you enjoy this next installment!**

Chapter 3

_You Say Goodbye, I Say Hello_

She sips her tea. Everything around her is making her jump, her heart quickening at the slightest noise. The opening of a door, the dropping of a steaming pitcher. Every time the hot tea touches her lips, she sets it back on the table, only having the whisper of jasmine in her throat.

She's been here only thirty minutes and she can feel everything rushing back.

She thought it would take longer than this. Like a flood, slowly ebbing until it overtook all of her, but instead it was like a tsunami, crushing into her until she couldn't breathe. She could even feel like blood on her hands like a perpetual stain, always dripping, never rinsing off.

Ziva looks out the window to the familiar D.C. streets, but it grows blurry as tears rush to her eyes. She tries to subtly wipe them away, but it feels like all the eyes in the café are on her.

"My dear, somehow you still make forlorn stunningly beautiful, but it is a face I do not wish to see."

Ziva lifts her head and leaps from her seat, moving to embrace the man standing before her, but she stops herself. She clamps her hands at her sides and she can see the twinge of pity in his eyes.

"Ducky." Ziva states, sitting back down.

"My darling Ziva. I desperately wished I would see you again in my lifetime, but I daresay this is not the circumstance I wished it." Ducky states, seating himself. Ziva pushes a cup of tea closer to him and he smiles. "You remembered. Oolong."

"How could I forget?" Ziva asks softly, but her voice doesn't sound like her own. She picks up her mug for something to do with her hands, but she wishes there was a similar solution for her mouth.

"I must say I was surprised to receive you call and invitation." Ducky continues pensively, already drinking more tea than Ziva had. "I would've assumed that you would've waited until the last moment to see us, given the circumstances." He surveys her.

She was still the same Ziva he remembered, with one important distinction. The impenetrable cloud of confidence that she carried around with her wafted away. He could tell that she was nervous as her eyes darted across the café like they were in a war zone. Ducky resists the urge to reach across the table and grasp her hand, but he doesn't.

"You're afraid," Ducky states, curious to get a rise out of her. She barely flinches. "You're afraid and I imagine that I am one of the least of your concerns."

Ziva doesn't respond.

"You know, my dear girl, this is going to be difficult to everyone involved." Ducky fingers his mug. "The bad thing about clean breaks is that if you ever decide you want to tie them up again, the rope is frayed. It takes twice as long than a normal rope."

Ziva sets her mug on the table fiercely, the contents spilling over. "I read the case file." She snaps, not looking Ducky in the eye. "Are you familiar with the Old Testament?"

"Yes."

"Then you're familiar with the tale of Sodom and Gomorra." At last Ziva looks Ducky in the eye, her gaze so wrapped with pain and agony, he finds it difficult to maintain it. "Do you know what happens to the woman to look behind her? The woman who is supposed to stay moving forward, but at the last moment, she looks behind? Do you know what happens to that woman?"

Ducky closes his eyes.

"She turns to salt."

**XXX**

"We need to have a discussion, Gibbs."

"Does it look like I have a moment to discuss anything right now, Leon?" Gibbs snaps, focusing harder on his computer than he can remember ever doing. Both Tony and McGee peek up from their computers at the exchange.

Tony hadn't said much since the video played, but worked quietly by himself. Gibbs watched him carefully throughout the afternoon. If anyone looked in, he would just seem like a hard-worker, casually trying to get through his 9-5 job. But this was Tony.

"We need a discussion because she arrives here tomorrow and I would like this to be handled without creating a scene."

Tony and McGee's attention were caught now. Gibbs hated the look they were giving the two of them. It's like they already knew. They already knew who the 'she' is.

"Perhaps you should've thought of that before you called in your favor."

Vance clears his throat, straightening himself up. "Fine." He states. Turning toward Tony and McGee, Vance says, "Starting tomorrow, Ziva David will be returning on a temporary basis, in order to help with the current murders. She will be strictly answering to me. If this makes anyone uncomfortable, I can make sure she's as scarce as possible."

Tony stares at Vance long after he leaves. A part of him wonders if he heard him correctly. He hadn't been sleeping very well and Ziva seemed to be in all corners of his mind. Had she permeated this much?

"Boss," Tony states, standing from his seat, but then stops.

What does he say? What could he say?

Gibbs takes a breath. "We've got a case to solve."

**XXX**

There's something about purifying the body. He wipes the blade clean, watching the blood drain from the body. Everything starts out fresh and pure. But then it slowly gets tainted. The bad overwhelms the good.

He closes her eyes, unable to stare at the glassy death within their depths. She was pretty. He allows himself this fickle thought as he runs the rag over her body, making sure to get every last blood stain. No, not pretty. Beautiful. Pretty is for children. She was not a child.

He lifts her up, her head lolling back like a pendulum as he walks her through her apartment. Half the tub is already full. Prepared perfectly, as usual.

He sets her body in the tub, running his hands over the salt. As he dumps the rest of the container over her body, he leans closer to her face. In a gentle whisper, he says, "You're welcome."

**XXX**

Ziva paces around her hotel room. Everything here is just like she is – ephemeral. She's nothing but a passing ghost. That's what she'll always be. Returning to D.C. only cemented that fact.

She runs her hands on the fabric of the bed, a luxury she's not used to. Spending months on a cot in the desert left her with not a lot of possessions, but feeling fuller than she had in years.

But then again… something about returning to D.C. made a small, but very present part of her sigh with relief. The part that she told herself wasn't there, the part that she ignored, desperately trying to fill it with other things, felt more present that she can remember.

Ziva picks up her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she reaches his name.

He wouldn't have her number. She got rid of her old phone, only one person in the world knowing the number. Vance did his research and called the wildlife reserve directly, saying it was a matter of life or death. She supposes it is, but it doesn't make her any more thrilled to be here.

Without thinking, she presses 'send'. The phone rings several times, but she can't bring herself to hang up.

"Hello?"

When the husky voice on the other end sounds, Ziva freezes. Her thumb hovers over the 'end' button, but she finds herself clutching the phone closer to her ear. "Hello? Hello? Okay, this is like, the worst prank ever. The least you could do is breathe heavy into the phone. _Hello._"

Ziva presses 'end'.

Clutching the phone to her chest, she realizes she was shaking.

What happens to the woman who looks behind her?

Nothing but salt.

**Author's Note: Hey guys! What do you think? I'm trying to strike a balance between the case and the character/emotional stuff. Next chapter will be first meetings! Let me know what you think if you have the time! **


End file.
